Uzumaki Naruto
by narutodippy
Summary: I've never been loved. Never been wanted. Everything has been lies wrapped in betrayal. Tonight, as I gaze at my eternal rest, for once, I feel at peace. Suicide, dark, suggestions of sex.


**Uzumaki Naruto**

XOXOX

Dear lord…As I look back on this, I'm surprised this got five reviews. I mean, before I edited this, it was terrible. The spelling was down right laughable. I can't believe myself. Oh well, what has happened has happened. On with the new (and improved!) So here you go, Uzumaki Naruto, V2!

XOXOX

The sky was misted, its colors gray. As I gazed skyward, it didn't feel right. All that happened to me, all that I was. I had done so much, made it so far, but for what? I had made it to Genen, and trained well enough that I could be a chunin. I had proven myself countless times, but they still didn't see who I was. I had been the one to defeat Hyuuga Neji when no one believed in me, not even my teammates. Then, I had defeated Gaara. But Sasuke got the glory. Sakura even thought that Sasuke had done it. But it wasn't Sasuke, but no one would believe me when I said I had done it. Even Kakashi disagreed.

Then came the chase when Sasuke decided to betray Konoha. Two of my friends almost died on the mission, and I had fought all out to get Sasuke back, but in the end, I just failed, like ever other time. I was told it was alright, but I could tell by the look in their eye's, they where mad. Even Sakura gave me that look. I felt sick from it.

When I had left, I was put in a temporary dream. It was wonderful like that. There were no glares. People saw me for the first time. They didn't fear me. They accepted me with open arms. I was at peace inside, if only by a little. As I look back on it now, I wish I had stayed. Away from all the pain, all the agony that ached in my chest. I wish I could have allowed myself to let go. Allowed myself to be free. If only just once.

When ever I had to leave a town, they would be sad, and wish me safe travels. The older woman would hug me, saying I felt like a second son. The little kids would call me brother and give me small gifts they had made themselves. The girls my age would kiss my cheeks, and the boy's would pretend they where annoyed, but in the end give me high fives and pats on the back and wish me luck and that I stopped by again some time. Truly a dream. But then, those blissful two and a half years vanished as I was told it was time to return to those glares, those spiteful remarks and mistrust. I had wondered if I could run away while my mentor slept. There were about a good dozen towns that would take me in with open arms and hide me if I gave a good enough reason. They would smuggle me to the next town if they had to. To where I would receive the same, concerned loving treatment.

But, my better judgment got in the way, like it always did. I knew I was a wanted man. If I ever left Jiraiya's side for a long enough time, they would come. I refused to endanger those innocent people for my sake. That was the only reason I didn't leave. I knew it would get them killed. I cursed my sense of righteousness. It was ironic that I, of all people, worried about others. So I put on a false smile, and pretended I was happy to be home.

The glare's hurt worse than before. I was used to those kind greetings and happy smiles. But I brushed it off as I reunited with Sakura. I wasn't surprised when she hit me, like she always did. No one saw it wrong that she openly abused me.

Then I was told about me being the only Genen left from his generation. I was purposely singled out again. Like I always was. My friends' promotion to Kazekage was rubbed in my face too. I felt proud for Gaara, if not a bit jealous. I wanted to congratulate my friend, and tell him I would not loose, but I knew I was still gripping onto an unreachable dream. I could see how Gaara made it despite all he had done. He was feared. They wanted to control him in a way where he would be loyal no matter what.

I wasn't feared though. I had never actually down right hurt a civilian. Pranked, yes, but that was as hostile as I got. They saw me as weak because of that. They had no idea that on a whim, I could release the Kyuubi and kill them all. I would do it too, but I didn't. I wouldn't harm the few people who cared. I would have to tell them when I would, so they could be far, far away. I knew they would never agree. I knew they would look at me in a spiteful way if did such a thing. If I saw those eyes on them, I would shatter. I knew just how fragile I was. Those small connections that were sincere were the ones I needed most. I needed Iruka-sensei. I needed Tsunade and Shizune. They truly cared about me, despite every thing else.

But now, on my sixteenth birthday, on the festival I was never allowed to attends, my apartment was broken into. Again. It was destroyed, and Demon, was written all over the walls. Again. When I had returned home, I wasn't shocked, but it hurt. It was a stab he hadn't expected to bleed so much. At first, I just cleaned it up and brushed it off. But as the days slipped by, I could hear those words more and more. I could hear the whispers more commonly. It was getting to me, no matter how hard I tried.

I began to stop eating. I just didn't have an appetite. I grew pail and sickly. Then, I found something to ebb the pain that was growing in my heart. I began to cut himself. At first, it was a small nick. I didn't do it again. But I kept looking at the small razor over and over, a single droplet of my blood still on it. A symbol that I had started something I knew I could not escape. A day passed where they had had called me things I dare not repeat. It hurt me almost physically. It pushed me back to that beautiful silver release. I rushed home and grabbed it. This time I wasn't afraid and sliced sharply across my wrist. It hurt, yes, but it felt good. The pain felt wonderful. I had a way to finally escape. I sliced again. More pain filled his shaking limb. I wanted more. I sliced his other arm, blood dripping onto the floor. I set the blade aside, relaxing as the wounds healed quickly. I was ok with it though. I felt happy for once, even though I knew it was an illusion I had cast onto myself.

It soon became an obsession. I ate less and less, loosing weight a ridicules rate. I cut myself every night when I came home. The razor became my friend, my lovely, lovely friend. Sakura began to worry because my state of health. She began to follow me around. Figures she would only care when it was already to late to do anything about it. It made me angry, but I ignored her for the most part, she wasn't the problem.

Now, as I sit here, my favorite object light in my fingers, I dare to go further. My wrists were shredded memories. Slashed beyond the point of healing. The scars where faint, almost not there. But I knew. That was enough. I held the light blade with trembling fingers. When had it gotten so cold? I ignored it as I brought the blade across my wrist, wincing slightly as I did so. It felt good, feeling the release, the pleasure of knowing that I was in control. Even if it was by doing something so terrible. I exhaled, as if I had been holding my breath for a long time. I released my inhabitations through the opening in my arms as the warm life nectar trickled down. I was gone, lost in the beauty of freedom. The ecstasy of being able to do what I want. Being able to end it if I wanted to, or to stop. I was in control. I was the ruler of this. That's all I wanted. A little bit of control for once in my life. I felt a violent shiver flow through me. When had it gotten so cold? I felt a presence next to me. My movements were sluggish. How deep had I cut? The razor was knocked from my hand before I could do anything to stop it. I felt a powerful set of hands on my shoulders. The world titled violently as I was whirled around from where I kneeled on the floor. How deep had I cut?

A familiar mess of silver locks where over me. The image was blurred, it hazed on the edges. I heard a faint muffled voice in the distance. I shivered. Was it cold in here? How bad had I cut myself? The voice wasn't getting clearer, and it felt like I was being shaken. I Trembled. Was it cold in here?

I was moving rapidly. I felt the world flying by me in distorted blobs of color. I tried to keep my eyes open, but I couldn't. How deep had I cut? Whiteness swarmed what little I could see. I couldn't will myself to move. Some where in the back of my mind, I heard a voice telling me something was wrong. That I should breathe.

I blinked weakly. Why had I thought that? It wasn't so hard any more, to fall into the relaxation that had begun to claw at the back of my mind. Where was I going? I feel like I'm slipping. My chest hurts. Where am I? Is it cold?

How deep had I cut myself?

It had only taken a moments notice for them to take my blades. They stole my Kunai, hid my knives, and buried my shiruken. All my blades, gone. My release, taken. How could they do this to me? It was my freedom, and they took it. They took me off active duty so they could keep a closer eye on me. I almost died after all. I think the Kyuubi got sick of my mutilation. Maybe the damned demon realized that he could not save me. But I still needed my release. My freedom. I needed something.

I turned to using butter knifes. They where allot harder to use, and hurt so much more. But they worked. There cuts where jagged and shredded my skin, making angry scars on my flesh. But my bliss once more was taken from me. Sakura had seen the scars, and told Kakashi, who confiscated my new lover.

My path of self mutilation slowed. I tried to find something else, and I found it. I had discovered sex. But not in the way that most would want me too. Not that I cared what they thought of me any more. I began to sell my body, simply because the pain helped. When they hit me and forced their way inside, it made me feel better and worse at the same time.

Time passed in a blur of pain and destruction for me. The nights I spent in someone else's room. With some one else inside me, destroying me. I didn't ask who my "costumers" where, nor did I care what they did. They would beat me. Placed their marks on my flesh. They gave me something more though. They gave me my first lover back. They gave me razors. I asked for them as payment. I began to cut again, the joy returning. Eventually, my need for sex dwindled. I didn't need their help any more. I had my blades back. It was all the pain I needed. I decided to stop selling my body now that I was able to do what I liked best. I went to my last customer and did what I usually did. I was lost in the nothingness. I had missed it.

The next day, I dared to venture out into day light. I rarely went outside during the day, as if the sun where poison to my pale flesh. Their stares were different than how I had remembered. How long had it been since I went outside? Had I forgotten what they acted like?

That's when I saw it. My legs grew weak. My heart froze in my chest as I gazed forward, horrified. Hundreds, no thousands. Pictures. Pictures of me. There were every where. All of which held pictures of my misdeeds. My sins. I felt my world tilt. I vomited. I was sick. So terrible sick. I needed to hide it. I had to. I didn't know where to start. My body moved on its own. I felt the paper on my fingers as I desperately tore them down. My cheeks where wet. Was I crying? When had so many people gathered? They where watching me. I knew they where. I could feel their eyes boring into my spine. Into my soul. They could see the stains inside me. The scars, the blood, the come. All of it, like I was stark naked. I felt my stomach violently clench again. Nothing came out. I had nothing left inside me to give. They began to yell at me, and call me things that I never thought could hurt worse then demon. They called me a whore, a fag, a cunt. I stared at the pictures, my finger tips dyed red with blood. There where so many. Too many.

I felt my chest throbbing. My heart was hurting. Why was everything so cold all of a sudden? I could hear their voices, warped and taunted. They wrapped around me. Consumed me.

I felt something touch me. It was warm in all the cold. It burned. I recognized the face. I knew those green eyes. I recognized that pink hair. She was looking at me. Was that disappointment? Disgust? No more. I can't take it any more. I broke the contact violently, flinging out my shredded fingers. I felt them hit. Was that a crack? I ran. I didn't know where to, but I went there any way. I felt my feet hitting the ground, but could not see. I felt my tears. They were cold. So cold. My feet brought me to a familiar place. The door to my home, no, my prison was before me. I went inside, my body shaking uncontrollably. I shoved anything that was not bolted down in front of all entrances. No one was getting in. No one was going to see me. My body hurt. It hurt terribly. I crumbled to the floor. My room was bare, lacking everything. I was breathing hard. My body shook hard. It hurt. Everything hurt. I curled closer into myself, as if I could cradle myself. To hold myself and make all the pain go away.

Voices. Why where they here? Why did they care? I ignored it as I forced myself deeper into my horrible abuse I had endured. My life was hell, and no one could save me from it.

Time was a warped passage of images. Disfigured blurs of hatred and despair. I was outside, but not on my own free will. They had all but forced their way inside my prison and dragged me out into another. I had trapped myself for days, not once moving. I didn't eat. I didn't think. I had lain listlessly on the cold floor, allowing myself to slip into a pleasant absence of everything. But they stole that from me. They always stole what little peace I could find.

I was weak and sickly. I couldn't walk. I couldn't breath. Everything was hard to do. They where worried. I can't fathom why they cared. Why they forced their fake smiles and pretended they weren't with the demon. They feigned their concern. I could see through it. Those liars

Those looks, those horrible looks burned holes in my soul, weakening me more and more. The cuts I made didn't work any more. They never seemed enough. . Those bastards couldn't do this to me any more. Never again would I let them harm me. Never again would I let them take what little condolence I had in this pathetic life. I had come to a decision. My mind found a release. The ultimate release. When the thought first passed through me, I was unsure. Even afraid. But as more time passed, it became clear. My mind wrapped around the idea, and embraced it. I wanted, no, I needed it.

So here I was, late at night. I stood on a chair, a rope around my neck as the rain fell. My heart was racing, my body frozen as I tried to assure myself that this was it. It was my only choice, and I was going to take it. I took a deep breath, glancing at the note in front of me on the floor. I moved towards the edge of the chair.

With a swift kick, it fell from under me. My eyes went wide as I felt my breathing be cut off. I flailed; I kicked and gasped, scratching at my throat. Then a felt no more.

A body swung back and forth as dull blue eyes stared lifelessly at the floor, a small smile on the figures lips.

XOXO

What do you think? Is V2 worth the read? I'd love to know your opinion on it! Review please! Ja Na!


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